Chapter 7
Cassian meandered through the townhouse where he had slept for the night, not too drunk to fly home, but drunk enough that he knew better than to try when he had his own room somewhere on safe ground. As soon as dawn cracked, the streak of sunlight through his open window awoke him and within minutes he was dressed in his training leathers, two siphons on either arm, the rest tucked neatly away.
He gave a knock with the back of his knuckles on Arwen's door out of courtesy but knew that the response would be nothing more than a grumble anyway and walked in. The relatively young half-Illyrian woman was curled up near her pillow, more than half her face buried in the feathered pouch. "Sunrise," he announced, shaking her upper-most arm. She stirred, the lines deepening between her brows. "You earnt yourself training by running that mouth of yours." Arwen only tightened her hold on the pillow. He could imagine that she had a headache which is why he had a tall glass of water and something for the pain waiting downstairs.
"Not today," she growled, turning onto her stomach.
Cassian sighed, striding around her bed to the other side of her room where her curtains were drawn closed. He yanked them open, golden light piercing through the room. "Up," he commanded. To encourage the process, and show her that he wasn't messing around, he began to rifle through her draws until he found something that he knew she would wear to training regularly and tossed it on the empty side of her bed.
When she still hadn't moved by the time he had finished, the general resorted to tugging the blanket away from her. Surprisingly he wasn't met with the resistance of her clinging fingers as though she had let it slip away. "Up," he repeated, traversing back to her side of the mattress. At her still closed eyes, he pursed his lips and sat down on the bed near her middle. "We won't go too hard," he promised her. "It's good training to be able to fight even when you don't feel like yourself. Builds resilience."
Arwen furled her fist around her pillow and for a moment he feared that it would be next flung into his face, but she only used it as leverage as she pushed up with her knees until she was sat on her ankles, facing the headboard. Cassian tightly held his lips against any remark about her less than dignified appearance. "Do I have to?" she asked, voice a croaky whisper. Cassian almost felt bad. Almost. That was the keyword that separated him from both his brothers. It only worked on him when he let it. "I already have resilience for not punching you right now."
He cracked a chuckle. "Get dressed, meet me downstairs in five."
Arwen submitted to the order that paraded behind a soft tone.
Cassian smiled at her half-hearted glare and squeezed her shoulder before leaving to allow her privacy. He sauntered back downstairs, the rest of the house which included Mor and Rhys still in a heavy slumber. Azriel no doubt was enjoying having the House of Wind to himself for the night and early morning. It took more than five minutes for Arwen to arrive downstairs, but he decided to say nothing of it upon observing the foul look spread across face. He offered her the water and the powder to mix it with that would give a slight relief to the pounding in her head. She downed it quickly.
The moment Cassian noticed that something might truly be wrong is when she simply waited for him to pick her up outside of the townhouse so that he could fly her to the rooftop. He had been bracing his muscles for the usual jump where she'd claw to his front. It was a habit she picked up in her youth before she was old and strong enough to fly. But that morning, he was the one to bend at the knees and lift her, a single arm loosely going around his neck. Nevertheless, he flew them to the rooftop on the House of Wind.
Arwen wiped at her eyes as she was placed back on her feet, sniffing and trying to clear the fog in her mind to navigate her way around the rooftop. She distantly heard Cassian's direction of stretching. It wasn't terrible and the slight pain was more awakening than anything else.
When it was time for proper training to begin, that sensation that had been plaguing her since the previous night seemed to only grow. It made her feel woozy, but not quite dizzy. More so that her inner body was not matching the world around her rather than feeling the world sway. It had to have been something she drank. But Rhysand had brought her all her drinks and they were nothing new.
He handed her a short dagger, telling her that they'd be working on her blade skills. He sure wasn't going to trust her with a sword with the way she was looking at him. He preferred his guts on the inside of his skin. Pulling to her to one of the training dummies, Arwen mutely fell into position, his hands only giving slight adjustments. She struck down on it, flipping the knife between holds and following the manoeuvres she had been taught.
Cassian noted her weary blinks that were becoming slower each time. And her strikes were sloppier than when she had first even begun. "Are you being this terrible on purpose to get out of training?" he prodded. "Because it's not working but you are going to hurt yourself."
Arwen stopped, her breath shuddering, eyes closing over. "I don't feel right, Cass," she admitted, praying that he would believe her and not what he had just accused her of.
And he did. He rested a hand on the side of her left shoulder, reaching across and taking the dagger from her other hand. "Go sit down," he told her gently. As she slowly walked back to the shaded area, he went over the other side to place the blade back in its spot. Just as he turned back around, Arwen fell to her knees. "Arwen!" The space between them was soon eliminated as he dropped down beside her, a hand to her chest to assist in keeping her upright as she bent over. Arwen was breathing unsteadily but slow, eyes blinking rapidly. He felt the guilt trickle in, knowing that she had been trying to tell him since he woke her.
He placed a hand to her forehead. It was hotter than usual, but not the heat that came with a fever. Arwen seemed to be in her own head, focusing on her breathing so he let her, listening to her heartbeat with his tune hearing, then trying to note if she had any other physical signs of ailment. "Are you going to be sick?" he asked her.
Was she going to vomit? Meekly, her head shook. "Can I go back to bed? Please."
He couldn't deny her that. Cassian guided her to her feet, letting her lean against his side. He took her back down into the House of Wind, gradually through the halls and then he pushed open the door to her chambers in the House of Wind. Arwen all but fell onto her bed, not even in the mind to thank him for bringing her there. It was his fault she was taken from her bed first, she reasoned.
Cassian tugged the blanket from under her and lay it over her stomach, more so he could spend those few moments silently analysing her. She must have drunk more than they both realised, or outdid herself with the dancing.
Leaving her be, Cassian returned to his own training.
It wasn't for another hour that company joined him in the training rings. He was running through a set of exercises that were hard enough to elicit pants. There was no point unless he was pushing himself.
Rhysand arrived in his own training gear, having spent most of his morning discussing work with Azriel about talks of Hewn City which was resisting his leadership. The spymaster left to communicate with his network. "Don't tell me you let her off training," he called at no sign of his younger sister.
Cassian continued his set of sit-ups as he answered. "I know," he grunted. "Still trying to figure out if she was actually ill or just playing me. She'll pay for it if she isn't." He finished off his set as the High Lord began stretching. "She learned it from you, you know," he accused, pointing his blade at his brother. "How to manipulate people."
"I pay for it every day," Rhys chuckled. "And the worst part is, is that I know when it's happening and I still fall for it." The warrior duo finished off their training together, the High Lord informing his General Commander of his spymaster's whereabouts.
Rhysand wandered through the House of Wind until he landed outside of his sister's chambers, rapping his knuckles against the wood. At no response, he turned the handle quietly and peered inside.
Arwen was fast asleep, turned on her side. Carefully and quietly shutting the door behind him, Rhys crouched down next to her bed. She didn't look sick. Not in the pale, lifeless way that they would when something was strong enough to take Fae down. She would have had to put on a good show for Cassian to believe it. Master manipulator indeed. The thought made him smile. It wasn't lies or twists of word and thought like he used, crawling through their minds. No, she was smart enough to use people's own desires and wills against them. She knew how to find their weak spots and rein them for her own use. And all of it was hidden under a soft smile that she had gotten from their mother and batter of her eyelashes.
But when Arwen opened her eyes, not in such a deep sleep as he thought, there was no battering or moment of her adjusting them upon seeing him there. They were dim from the moment he saw them. His smile evened. "Cassian said you weren't up for training." Arwen breathed heavily through her nose and gave a stiff nod. "Drink too much?" He had been keeping an eye on her intake, but perhaps it had gotten away from him.
"Or danced," she croaked through a smile. "I'll make up for the training."
"Should I get Madja?"
Arwen shook her head against the pillow. She didn't feel sick. She felt off. Like there wasn't some illness inside of her, but that she was the problem itself.
Rhysand pressed his lips together and gave a soft stroke to the top of her head. He was beginning to see why Cassian believed her. There was a dullness to her and if his sister was anything, it was not dull. "Stay in bed today," he told her, the side of his lip quirking. "I'll send you food."
She seemed to burrow deeper, eyes closing once more. "Thank you."
Rhysand sat on his haunches for another moment, fingers lightly scratching her scalp. He searched into her open mind, piecing together small fragments of memory that she left on the surface for him to collect. Then he leant forward, pressed a kiss to her brow and left her to sleep.